


Sensitive

by SerpentineJ



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PruAus - Freeform, Smut, also, kind of kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia is the same old, same old… meaning he’s sitting at Austria’s house, bored, pinching his irritated hosts’ cheeks. Austria has an… inconvenient erogenous zone. Pruaus, only a little plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensitive

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Inspired by Prussia’s Drama CD, in which he spends his free time pinching Austria’s cheeks (and Austria sounds awfully flustered) and the bit on Austria’s Wiki page that says the mole at the corner of his mouth is probably an erogenous zone. Plus I have a thing for inopportune erections.

“Ngh…” Austria scowls at the man beside him, trying to pull away. “Stop it! What are you, five?”

Prussia grins and pokes his cheek again, getting another frown. He rectifies the downwards slant of the other’s mouth by pulling on it again. “Kesese. It’s all soft and stretchy!”

The other hisses and bats his hand away. “Do you not have anything better to do? Why are you here, anyways?”

He tries to return to his paperwork, shifting in his desk chair and picking up his pen, but Prussia demands his attention. Immature as always.

Unfortunately handsome as well. But a complete ass, he reminds himself.

“I’m bored, you ponce!” The other hops off his desk and turns to the crackling fire and the tall bookshelves on the other wall of the room, crossing his arms. “And Hungary won’t go hunting with me. And she’s wearing dresses. What did you _do_ to her?”

Austria looks up, a mix between anger and concern furrowing his brow. “I’m not entirely sure either.” He shakes himself and turns back to his business. “And it’s not my job to entertain you, you immature brat.”

Prussia looks back at the man at the desk. He can’t help but notice how the fire and the warm lamplight seems to brush warm tones over his brown, adorably curly hair, the glasses perched halfway down his dainty, pointed aristocrat’s nose, the permanently irritated set of his thin eyebrows…

He nearly slaps himself and looks away before the twat catches him staring.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Prussia especially uncharacteristically still, until Austria can’t stand it anymore. He raises his head and, a moment later, his eyebrows arch upwards in disbelief.

The other man is reading. Actually absorbed in a book he must have selected from his host’s extensive collection.

“I didn’t know you were literate.” Austria breaks the quiet and Prussia looks up.

He chuckles… actually chuckles, quietly, and closes the book. It’s one on psychology, interestingly enough. The brunet can’t quite believe how mature he’s being.

There must be a trap.

~~~~~~

He had known it had been too good to be true.

Within fifteen minutes Prussia is his own irritating self,that blasted smirk giving his eyes a wicked look and pinching Austria’s cheeks.

“Arg-“ He wriggles away for what must be the thousandth time and scowls, rubbing his face, careful to avoid that one spot. “How many times do I have to tell you to quit that?”

“Kesesesese.” His foe snickers and musses Austria’s well-groomed hair just to annoy him. “No matter how many times you say it, I won’t stop. I’m too awesome to bow to the whims of prats like you!”

Prussia grabs for his cheek again and his thumb presses against that _one spot and damn it-_

Austria can’t restrain a gasp from forcing its way from the back of his throat. He can feel a flush rising to his cheeks, eyes widening, limbs tensing, and he stiffens (in more ways than one).

The other immediately lets go, a flash of… something (definitely not concern, not from Prussia) flickering in his eyes before some semblance of understanding begins to dawn.

The bespectacled man draws in a stuttering breath, looking away and hiding his face, scooting closer to his desk and shutting out the red-eyed menace.

“A-Austria…” Prussia sounds slightly out of breath, which is odd.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Austria pretends to return to his paperwork and the other stands beside him, not moving, the expression on his face becoming more and more one of comprehension.

The brunet jolts back in his chair when he feels a rough fingertip gently brush against the mole on the corner of his mouth. 

“Prussia- _ngh,_ ” He huffs, already on edge, “What are you-“ The finger is making small, circular motions now, softly applying pressure, making it very, very difficult to think. He can feel his… Silesia slowly taking interest in the proceedings.

A small smile begins to grow on his tormentor’s face and he leans over so his mouth is just by his prey’s ear, giving the shell a tiny lick and making him jump. The musician grips the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white, and tries to choke back the groan that rises in his throat.

It doesn’t work.

Prussia’s smile is a full-blown grin now, wickedness in his eyes and the way his teeth gleam in the firelight, and Austria eases his head back onto the headrest of the chair, eyes fluttering shut from the sensation overtaking him.

Wait.

Prussia.

“Wh-“ Somehow he finds the willpower to open his violet eyes again and glare, though his valiant effort is made useless when the other scrapes a nail along the small spot, making him arch up and inhale sharply, entire body thrumming with energy. “What the he- _eee_ -ell are you- _ngh_ -doing?”

Prussia nibbles at his ear and his other hand drapes around Austria’s neck to trail down his neck, stroking the pale skin of his collarbone and _fuck this should not be this arousing-_

The musician is panting now, red faced and trembling, nearly undone by a set of clever fingers and a conniving mouth.

“Mmm.” The other snickers in his ear and Austria nearly pulls away from sheer stubbornness. Almost. “Who would have thought… the pretentious… prim and proper-“ he uses the fingernail again and the other nearly sobs from the sensation it sparks to his brain- “Austria could be degraded to this level by a couple awesome fingers.”

Austria scowls. “Sh-shut up- _ohhhh…_ ”

Prussia attaches his mouth to the mole, sucking gently, and the other’s hips buck upwards, arousal very, very obvious. He smiles and the point of his tongue protrudes to lap at it.

“You’re quite beautiful, you know.” He murmurs, so quietly Austria nearly can’t hear him over the buzz of pleasure. “Especially like this.”

The other gasps. “What the fuck- _ugh_ \- are you talking ab _out oh god please do that again please-_ “

Prussia had pressed his tongue against the spot, firm pressure and slick heat, and Austria nearly comes from just that.

His cock is straining against his trousers now, twitchy and slightly painful. He bucks his hips, seeking friction, anything to relieve it and grant him the release he is seeking.

Later, Austria will be mortified at his shameless begging, Prussia knows. 

The knowledge only makes the action more delicious.

He grins and mouths the mole, other hand trailing around to slip beneath the ascot, untucking it from the prim purple coat, and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath to stroke the bare skin beneath. It’s quite warm, he notices, and soft, and he can’t help seeking out the nipple and giving it a good tweak.

Austria arches up into his hand, the moans and mutters streaming out near continuously now, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

“Ngh… _God…_ ”

Prussia smirks. “Are you going to beg, Roderich? It would be much appreciated.”

“I will not beg- _fuck_ \- to an immature br- _augh, God more_ \- like y-you, Gilbert…” The name feels odd on his tongue, like something once familiar fallen out of use.

“Mmm.” He mouths the spot again and Austria can feel the smug curl of his lips against his flushed skin. “Not even a little?”

The other scowls. “N-Never.”

He withdraws suddenly, backing away, and bows mockingly, grinning at the image his old rival makes; blushing and debauched, a red mark blooming quite nicely at the corner of his mouth, shirt unbuttoned and hair mussed. His eyes are bright and pupils dilated with desire. Prussia has the strangest urge to kiss him.

Well, maybe not the strangest. It’s probably not weirder than the time he wanted to feed West an entire bowl of super-hot chili, just to see how he would react. 

Actually, can you blame him? Austria is practically sprawled across the chair, attractive and half-undressed, blushing, mouth slightly open. Plus, he’s been lusting after/crushing on/not so silently stalking the guy for decades.

Austria huffs, frowning, and sits up, beginning to button his shirt and straighten his ascot. Within moments, Prussia is back beside him, stilling his hands and kissing him. 

“I’ll concede this round.” He says, grinning wickedly and snaking his hand back under the shirt. It doesn’t take long before the other is a moaning mess under him again and he feels… powerful.

Yes.

Powerful.

Though he knows that if Roderich requested honestly for him to stop, he’d stop, so he supposes Austria is the one with the real power here, but that’s beside the point.

Speaking of Roderich…

He appears to be near the point of climax, hips arched off the chair and cock still constrained within his trousers, and Prussia decides to try something.

He scrapes his teeth along the spot at the corner of the other’s mouth, letting his tongue flick out to soften the sting before doing it again. Austria lets out a strained moan-gasp-groan and begins to beg in earnest, despite his steadfast insistence that he would not, and Gilbert feels his own penis harden in his pants.

“Do that again, please, more, Gilbert, _please_ ,” he pants and Prussia can do nothing but comply.

And then Roderich whines, a choked back scream, and comes in his boxers, creaming the front of his pants and shuddering in the bliss of completion. Gilbert helps him along, prolonging the experience by rolling the nipple between his fingers and biting gently on the spot he’s been sucking.

It takes a minute, as Austria seems content to slump back in his chair and breathe heavily, and Prussia can’t help but admire the sight before him. The stuffy aristocrat, taken down a peg or five.

He smiles fondly and grabs the back of his rolling office chair, scooting it to a far wall and through a door left ajar which, as he had predicted, leads to Roderich’s bedroom. The process is difficult but he manages to undress him and, wiping him down with a warm, wet towel and throwing his soiled boxers in the trash (he’ll buy him a pack later), slips him into his nightclothes and under the duvet of the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. (He may have quickly relieved his own… tensions while he was in the bathroom.)

It’s painfully sappy and Prussia feels ridiculous doing it, but there’s a sense of warmth once it’s done. He grins down at the other, gently touching the mole on his cheek and brushing a fingertip across the gentle slant of his mouth.

When he turns to leave, though, a nimble, warm hand grabs his wrist.

Austria hasn’t moved, aside from the limb protruding from the covers. His eyes are still closed, breaths still deep and even.

The message, however, is clear.

_Stay._

After a moment, he smiles, a genuine, soft smile, and removes his clothing except for his boxers. It takes only a minute for him to grab one of Roderich’s surprisingly soft sleep shirts and pull it on, tugging the duvet back enough to slip inside.

“Be warned.” Prussia mutters as he finds Austria with his fingertips and pulls him closer. “I’m a big cuddler.”

He can hear the other chuckle softly, but he doesn’t respond.

“It’s cause I’m such an awesome boyfriend.”

Roderich stiffens momentarily and Prussia feels a wave of fear, real fear (he hasn’t felt that for _ages_ ), but he relaxes again and softly twines their fingers.

It’s ridiculously sweet, he thinks, and not at all fitting for their relationship in general.

That, however, doesn’t matter. No doubt by tomorrow morning they will be bickering again, at each other’s throats with the jabs and the jokes.

“Well,” Prussia smiles, slightly vindictively, “we’ll always have tonight.”

The other speaks unexpectedly.

“And many more after that, I hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I'm not sorry... so, what did you think? This was my attempt at exploring the sensitive side of Prussia's character a little more. 'Cause he'd definitely be a sap post-sex.


End file.
